A sense of urgency gripped him. He had to say something to her now, before it was really too late. Perhaps something could be done. Perhaps he could convince her…
He opened the window.
“Wait!” he said. “Do not go inside. I will be down shortly.”
The young ladies turned astonished faces towards him. He could not tell from here, but it seemed to him there was a stubborn lilt to Miss Darcy’s chin.
It was not a good beginning. Shouting commands to her from the window was not the right way to gain her attention. Very likely, Miss Darcy would deliberately decide to ignore him and would return to the house.
“Please?” he added a little hoarsely, that pebble threatening to block his voice again.
He darted down the stairs as quickly as possible. He would intercept her if she tried to return. Everything suddenly seemed to depend on her not coming back inside. If she did, he knew he would never be able to convince her of anything at all.
***
There was a grating sound, the sound of a man with a very sore throat trying to clear it.
Georgiana looked towards the door of the Manor. There was Gatley, looking exactly as she had seen him yesterday but without a cravat and in stockinged feet. She stared at him, unable to look anywhere else.
“May I—” There was that throat clearing sound again. “Miss Darcy—” The throat clearing again, then a grinding sound that came from between his teeth “—to you.”
“Elizabeth is waving to me from the window,” said Clarissa, walking with very quick steps towards the house. “I will be back very soon.”
“Yes,” said Georgiana not paying attention at all. She was too busy wondering what in heaven’s name Mr Gatley was trying to say.
He sounded so strange, so unlike himself. But perhaps it was simply that the very sight of him—leaning out of the window and shouting out to her to stay—had brought back that relentless iron fist again, and she could hardly breathe.
And then there was that thudding sound in her ears—the sound of her heart clamouring to get out.
She stood immobile. She could not have moved if a stampede of horses had come her way.
Gatley watched Clarissa leave, wondering how she could possibly have heard him. He was sure that his request to see Georgiana alone had been too garbled for anyone to understand.
Perhaps he was making more sense than he thought. Perhaps, in that case, he did not have a stone in his throat after all.
“Miss Darcy,” he said, trying it out. The words came out more clearly, though his voice still rasped. “I owe you…I have wanted to apologise since that terrible episode at The King’s Arms…my behaviour on that occasion…” He drew himself up. This was going nowhere. “I can only account for my contemptible behaviour by recalling that I had suffered a blow on the head after falling from a carriage, and I had been unconscious for some considerable time. Perhaps that will go some way towards explaining why I was not thinking clearly.”
It was really quite pathetic of him to use his accident as an excuse. It was quite despicable. He was trying to ring every ounce of sympathy he could from her. He was disgusted with himself for doing it, but he could not help it. He needed every advantage he could think of.
His words had some of the desired effect, for Miss Darcy put a hand to her mouth and turned quite pale.
“Oh—why did I never think—I cannot believe that I forgot—but of course!” she cried, staring at him in dismay “No—it is I who should apologise. To think that, after what happened—I did not even consider that you were experiencing shock—after the blood loss—and that your head was—how are you feeling now?”
He was completely taken aback by this very mundane question.
“I am perfectly well, thank you.”
She smiled. Oh, how he loved this particular smile of hers. It was so genuine, so simple, and yet it had the power to wrench his heart.
“I am very glad you are fully recovered,” she said in a very polite tone.
He could bear it no longer. He had to hear it, from her own lips, so that his fate would be sealed, and he would walk away from there and put it all behind him. Even if it would wrench him apart.
“This engagement…” he said, leaving it open, unable to speak the words and make them true.
“Oh, you already saw Mrs Moffet,” she said, grinning broadly, grinning, for heaven’s sake, just because she was going to marry Moffet. He half turned away.
“I suppose I should express my good wishes.”
“I suppose so,” said Georgiana, looking faintly puzzled “It is not urgent, surely? You can stay for a while, can you not?”
He must be imagining things because he thought he had heard the tiniest hint of pleading in her voice. So tiny that he must have made it up, just because he wanted it to be there. He had thought his injury completely healed. But now his head was beginning to throb, just where the cut had been when he was injured.
“If you meant, am I going to ride straight over to offer Moffet my felicitations, then, no, of course not.”
Not over his dead body.
“Moffet?” she asked. “Is Moffet engaged too? Goodness! Who is he going to marry?”
It took him a long moment to translate her words into some semblance of meaning. Then, as the meaning sank in, the oppression in his head and the throbbing, all slid away as if by magic.
In a few long strides, he was in front of her.
“You are not engaged to Moffet?” he said, standing very, very close to her.
“No, though he did propose—”
A fierce sense of triumph swept through him. She would not be able to wriggle out of it this time. He would make sure she did not slip through his hands.
“Then you will marry me,” he said, making it very clear that it was not open to discussion.
She took a step backwards, then another.
“Mr Gatley,” she said, in a tone that made it very clear that she did mean to argue. “I would like to know by what right you come barging in here and ordering me—commanding me—to marry you. Just because I accepted your apology—”
His heart sank. Why had he thought that just by apologising, everything that had happened between them would conveniently melt away?
He should have known that matters with Miss Georgiana Darcy could never be simple. He looked into hazel eyes speckled with anger and understood that nothing but the absolute truth would do.
“I said earlier that my injuries partly account for my behaviour that day. But it was not true. They were just a convenient excuse. The fact was, I was taken by surprise. I overheard Darcy’s accusations, and I—I was bitterly disappointed. I believed at the time, you see, that I had finally found someone I would like to spend my life with. That you were—and then suddenly the carpet was pulled from under my feet. It never occurred to me to doubt Darcy, not for a moment.”
He shut his eyes, partly because he did not want to see her expression, partly because he wanted to hide the pain that sprung up whenever he even thought of that afternoon. “And I believed you then to be under your cousin’s power.”
He opened his eyes and shook his head but carefully avoided glancing at her face.
“I can scarcely believe myself capable of such folly. Perhaps I wilfully allowed myself to be misled because I did not want to face the reality—which was that my feelings were threatening to overcome my reason. I believed you then to be too easily influenced, and I have always promised myself never to marry a woman who was not as strong as I, for that is the road to unhappiness. I have seen it only too well in the case of my aunt. Darcy’s words only confirmed to me what I feared, and I did not stop long enough to question them.
“When I look back at it, it seems ludicrous. Why would you have me drive you all the way to Richmond for an assignation, when you could easily arrange one some
where in London? It is not as if London lacks establishments where this could be accomplished. And then to think that Miss Clarissa—” He paused, a tinge of colour darkening his cheekbone. “It is really quite embarrassing to recollect what I believed at that moment.”
He turned and looked at her now, straight into her eyes. “I can only hope that, once again, you can bring yourself to overcome your resentment—however well deserved—and to forgive me, even if this time, I hardly deserve forgiveness.”
She shook her head vigorously. “Enough!” she said, sounding pained. “You were not so entirely to blame. We did lie to you. We did deceive you. And then I did not offer you any explanation at all. What were you to think?”
She hesitated. “I still do not feel comfortable telling you the truth. Suffice it to say that we were visiting a young woman we know, and that I had promised not to reveal anything about her to anyone. You can reach your own conclusions about this, but I can assure you that we had no ulterior motives except to see her. I am sorry, but I do not feel that I can reveal our reasons to you even now.”
“Then in heaven’s name let us put the whole thing behind us!” said Gatley. “I do not need to hear anything more. It does not matter. As you pointed out then, it is all a matter of trust. I can assure you now that I would trust you with my life.”
“You say so now,” said Georgiana, her brow creasing, her whole expression lacking conviction, “but how am I to know that the next time something like this occurs, you will not yet again point the finger of accusation at me? How do I know that it will not happen again?”
“If it ever should occur again, you must remind me of this moment. But beyond that, one can never be certain. I have given you my trust. I can do nothing else but ask you to trust me in turn.”
She stood before him, considering.
He wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her until every doubt inside her dissolved, but he could not. He forced himself to stand apart, hands at his sides, until she reached her own conclusion. If she decided against him, he would surely have to accept her verdict.
If he could touch her, she would know how he felt about her.
If he touched her, however, he would not know how she felt without being swayed by him. He wanted the decision to come from her alone.
She considered for so long that his resolve began to crumble.
But then, with a strangled cry, she stumbled forward and put out her arms to him. He stepped into them and pressed her fiercely against him.
“How could I not trust you, when I love you so very much?” he said, his lips moving against her hair.
She burrowed her head into his chest. He relished the feeling for a single moment longer, then he pulled her away from him. He needed to know what she felt.
“I want to see your face,” he said. It sounded too much like a command. “Please?” he said.
She looked up then. Her eyes flickered, different emotions rippling through the different shades in her hazel eyes.
“Can you bring yourself to trust me?” he asked again, since she had not answered. He had to know that at least, if nothing else. If she could not give him more, then so be it.
“I trust you,” she replied shyly. Then, more confidently, with a smile trembling on her lips, she repeated, “Yes, I trust you, Mr Gatley.”
It was the only answer he needed. To still the trembling of her lips, he bent forward and steadied them with his own. He meant only to kiss her gently, to give her just a hint of his feelings. But to his surprise she flung her arms around his neck and drew him closer, standing on tiptoe to intensify the kiss.
His senses reeled. Only the certain knowledge that Darcy was in the house and would be upon them any moment, prevented him from surrendering to the moment. He pulled away from her gently.
“I think we ought to stop now,” he said, “before matters progress too far.”
She stepped back. He expected her to be embarrassed, but instead she had the look of a woman who is very well pleased with herself.
It put him at a disadvantage because he was not satisfied at all, not by a long margin.
“I am glad we have resolved things,” he said with just a touch of vexation.
“But we have not resolved things at all,” said Georgiana. “We have only resolved the question of trust.”
“What more do you want?” he cried. “I have told you I love you. Does that count for nothing?”
Her eyes darkened again. “It counts for a great deal,” she said.
“And?” he said, waiting for her to say something more. But she did not.
Everything was suddenly uncertain. The next few instants would determine his life. What if she meant to say no? He could not bring himself to say the words.
“Yes, Mr Gatley, I will marry you,” she answered, even though he had not asked the question, at least, he had not asked it now.
Georgiana knew she had rushed into it. She had been driven by a compulsion to say the words because for a moment there he had looked so hesitant and there had been too many misunderstandings between them. Besides, he had already asked her before. So yes, she had jumped in and answered. Before he changed his mind.
She expected him to look pleased, but instead a frown had settled on his brow.
“Mr Gatley?” He really was not behaving as she expected at all. He was quite inattentive. Or was it disapproving? Perhaps she ought not to have answered his question before he asked it.
Her temper flared. Well, if her outspokenness had put him off, it was really too bad. Because that was who she was. He had lectured her about being herself, and now that she was being herself, he was looking dissatisfied instead of being happy. It was a good thing she had discovered the truth, before it was too late.
“Actually, Mr Gatley, I take it back. I take it back. If you are to behave yet again like some boorish”—she could not think of the right word—“bull just because I anticipated your question…”
She started to walk off. He held onto her hand firmly and pulled her back, putting his arm around her waist and laughing.
“No, silly goose. You will not take it back. You have already given me your word, and I will not let you go back on it.” He considered her affectionately. “I was upset at myself, not at you, since I realised that you deserved better than this.”
Georgiana looked confused. He drew himself up to full length and gave her a lopsided smile. “You deserve a far better proposal than this. If I had known it, I would have prepared a speech.”
A new, tender kind of laughter rose up in her at the sight of his rueful face.
“Oh, well—that,” she said, sneaking her own arm around his waist and cherishing the feel of his strong muscles against her. “Perhaps if you are really kind to me and you undertake not to deliver any more lectures, at least not until we are married, then I may overlook such a lamentable lapse.”
He stopped and turned towards her, his other hand now encircling her completely. He gave her such a long, searching glance that she almost pulled away.
“But are you sure of this? Do you really want to do this? Do you care for me, at least a little?”
Her breath caught in her throat. She was swamped by the emotions that had welled up in her at that question, by the uncertainty in his gaze.
Again, she stepped forward, pulling him against her.
“Of course I am sure,” she said in a choked whisper. “I love you. I do not know how or when it happened, but you cannot imagine how miserable I have been, thinking I might never see you again.”
His arms tightened. He kissed her on the brow, aware that they could be seen from the house. He let go of her and took her hand.
“Come then, we should tell the others,” he said.
They walked hand in hand towards the Manor, laughing and retracing the past they had already built with each other.
&nb
sp; “I have been a bit in love with you since that first moment I saw you in church,” said Gatley. “You looked so chagrined at your cousins’ behaviour and wished yourself someplace else entirely.”
Her lips twisted at that. “And there I was, thinking you were passing judgement on me.”
“I was,” he said. “And my judgement was that you were the most adorable creature I had ever set eyes on.”
They slowed down to a crawl, wanting to prolong the moment as much as possible, and reluctant to face all the questions that they knew were coming. But it was inevitable, and eventually they reached the steps and began to ascend.
“I would suggest that you put on your boots before you speak to anyone,” said Georgiana. “And you should find yourself a cravat.”
Gatley stared down at the stockings that had become dirty and half-torn without him even noticing.
“Stockings,” he said grandiosely, “who needs them? They are far more interesting as handkerchiefs.”
The two of them dissolved into laughter.
***
He let go of her hand as they entered the house. Georgiana felt bereft of that warm contact immediately. Until now, Georgiana had only half believed in what had happened. But now that they were to tell everybody, she knew that it must be true.
“Would you mind very much if we inform my mother first?” said Gatley. “It may come as a surprise to her, and I would rather tell her in private.”
“Of course,” said Georgiana. “But you need to change first.”
When he came down a few minutes later, his cravat was hastily knotted and not at all up to his usual standard. Georgiana refrained from pointing it out however. She too was too nervous to delay their announcement any longer.
They inquired about Mrs Gatley’s whereabouts and were informed that Mrs Gatley was upstairs in her bedchamber, taking her afternoon rest.
“Shall we go, then?” said Gatley.
Georgiana took a deep breath and nodded. “I will wait for you outside in the hallway. You can talk to her first, and then you can call me in when you are ready.” Gatley scratched at the door and entered.
The Darcy Cousins Page 34
